Don't Let Me Be Lonely
by QueenOfFallout
Summary: Dasha Horvitz hadn't exactly fit in when she moved to America and whether that was due to the fact she couldn't speak English very well or the fact that she was a bit too brutally honest with the people she met, she'll never know. All she knows now is that she hates zombies, misses humanity and the loneliness is killing her. DarylXOC (I do not own Dasha or the Walking Dead.)


**This is actually a story I'm starting for a very good friend of mine but I wouldn't mind reviews and comments. So please enjoy!**

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Dasha Horvitz didn't want to admit it but she had become very lonely. Weeks of traveling alone, sleeping alone, and fighting alone had her feeling sick. Since the whole zombie apocalypse thing had gone down she hadn't found a single soul like her. And in that aspect she meant someone who was still sane and didn't find eating another person to be so enthralling and fulfilling. It seemed like eons since she had even spoke to another human being and now she was beginning to think she might just be the last one left.

Today Dasha found herself wandering through some swampy terrain, cursing out in Russian about how sticky and hot it was. She had her blue flannel jacket tied delicately around her thinning waist. Along with that she wore a blood stained white baggy T-shirt that was once a commemorated item to some long gone rock band, an old and very worn pair of filthy blue jeans and a pair of size eight and a half hiking boots that had a few holes in them and were painfully hurting her feet at the moment. She carried a custom painted Hello Kitty AR-15 on her back and a sharp Kabar zombie knife at her side which she artfully called 'The Death Dagger'. The knife itself had actually only been a gag gift she had bought for herself when she was sixteen but looking back now, she was definitely glad she had purchased it. Just a few days ago she had been using it to stab a flesh eater in the skull before it could take a wholesome chunk out of her neck with it's nasty black teeth.

While clutching the Rosary beads she always carried with her in hand, she continued on through the damp and muggy area. She cursed out in Russian once again when her foot suddenly became lodged in a puddle of muck. Already she could feel her right foot getting soaked with the foul water but the more she struggled to get her foot free, the more it got stuck. Dasha jerked her leg forward and back, trying her hardest to get free from the suction of the mud but again it was no use.

"Сукин сын!*"

Dasha cursed out yet again, quickly becoming angry with the situation she was in. It wasn't until she heard the groaning and deeply disturbing sounds of walkers heading for her did she really start to panic. Thinking quick, the Russian woman took out her Kabar knife, bending over as she did so. She moved her foot around as best she could, praying that she'd be quicker then the undead things heading right for her. She started to cut into the side of her boot through the mud, carefully using her blade as a hack saw, slicing at the worn leather. As she cut she could hear the eager groans getting louder, followed by slumped footsteps and the cracking of sticks and twigs under their feet.

The thick haired woman used her free hand to quickly brush her long dark tresses from her face as she continued to saw at the stuck boot with her other hand. A few more inches and she'd be free. _Just keep cutting. Just keep cutting._ She told herself although the words in her head were very harsh and in a deep rooted Russian accent. By now her blue eyes were darting back and forth from where she was slicing and dicing to the open path where she swore she heard another twig snap. She went back to focusing on the task at hand only to accidentally nick the side of her foot with the knife when a sudden hiss from a certain hungry zombie caused her to lose control.

"Бог Черт возьми!*"

Already she could feel her blood leaking into what was left of her boot making her realize that she must have given herself more then a little scratch. Ignoring how bad her foot was throbbing, she tugged her leg back sharply, causing her foot to dislodge from the mud sunken boot but it was already too late. Two flesh eaters were already on her, one immediately grabbing hold of her arm that had the knife clenched in it and the other one following right behind its starving companion, grabbing onto her other arm to take a hearty bite out of her appendage. Dasha fought back as best she could, using her uninjured leg to kick back the biter that had a firm grasp on her armed limb. The creature spit up foul black blood the first time she reared her leg into its stomach and the second time she kicked it the famished creature loosened it's grip just enough so she could kick it yet again, making it fall back on the ground, reeling from the three blows it took to the gut.

While trying not to gag from the smell of the rotting flesh right in front of her, the woman head butted the second zombie just before it's teeth came into contact with her face. It's head knocked back a bit making a sickening cracking sound and before it got the chance to go at her again, Dasha swiftly lodged her knife into the rear section of it's skull, effectively killing it. She pushed it aside after pulling her knife out, unaware she was being watched by someone other then the undead. She then got on her knees, crawling over to the other biter as it grappled to get back up. Just as the thing sat up, she jabbed her knife in the front section of it's forehead, killing it like she had done to it's friend.

Panting heavily, Dasha sighed, wiping her bloodied blade on her most recent kills old stained cargo pants and attempted to get up, only to stumble a bit and slump against a nearby tree. She looked down at her right foot, the one that had been lodged in the mud. The sock that was covering it had various stains of brown and red, a clear sign the sock wasn't doing it's job anymore. That's when she heard the sound of clapping, echoing nearby as if she had just put on a show for someone. She slowly raised her gaze upward towards the sound and her blue eyes met with two brown ones. A smile crossed the mans face as he adjusted his crossbow on his back and all Dasha could do was stare blankly.

"Damn girl, and I thought for sure you'd of been walker bait."

The Russian woman rolled her eyes and huffed as if to say she wasn't amused. She then went about looking back at the two undead she had just killed, specifically looking at their shoes. One had on a pair of old sneakers while the other one had on work boots. This man was hardly worth her time, especially if he had just watched her wrestle with two zombies and didn't even lift a finger to help her.

"What? Ain't you gonna ask who I am? Where I came from?"

Daryl Dixon smiled a bit, watching as the woman went about getting down on her knees and started to take off the pair of boots that one of the walkers had on. He still couldn't believe that he had just found someone out in the woods like this. He was expecting to find a deer or maybe a couple rabbits but not another living breathing person. This was sure something that Rick and the group back on the farm would find just as unbelievable as he did. Hopefully she wasn't crazy or untrustworthy. Now a days it was hard to come by someone who still had their values of humanity still intact.

"You sure don't seem like the talkin' type. You at least got a name?"

"Dasha."

The woman looked at Daryl for a brief moment and then back at the boots she had taken off the corpse that had been wearing them. They were a size nine and a bit too big for her feet but she'd manage. She took the boot off she was already wearing and slid on the other two, tying them nice and tight so they'd stay on her feet. When her feet had coverage on them once again, she got up, wincing slightly at the pain that shot up her leg. She knew it would be unwise to go without treating her injury but it wasn't like there was a doctor around or a stash of endless medical supplies she could just use whenever she wanted to.

"You know, you really outta see about gettin' that foot of yours fixed. I saw how bad it was bleedin' through your sock."

"And what you propose mountain man? I just go to family doctor?"

"My group and I are camped on a farm nearby. The guy who owns the land is a doctor. If you promise not to pillage, steal or kill any of us, I think he wouldn't mind takin' a good look at it."

"I don't need help. Especially not from mountain man who watched as I fought for life."

"What do you mean? I had those walkers in my sights the whole time. You were never in any danger. And my name isn't _mountain man _it's Daryl."

"Fine. Daryl. Take me to camp. I will abide by rules."

"Well ain't you a woman of many words. Alright let's get a move on then. It'll be dark soon."

Dasha followed Daryl feeling a bit weary that he was telling the truth. As she walked her foot burned but she did her best to ignore it by thinking about what Daryl had said. This whole time there were others like her? Living breathing people? And a whole group of them too? It'd be nice to have some human contact for awhile. Not to mention the care of a doctor almost sounded delightful to her which was odd because she had always hated doctors. If everything was true then maybe there was hope. Maybe humanity wasn't dead. Maybe the loneliness she felt would go away. Only time would tell though and in the world she lived in, time was a very valuable thing.

**Сукин сын* (Son of a Bitch)**

**Бог Черт возьми* (God Dammit)**


End file.
